


we had a lot of fun

by outranks



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Getting Back Together, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 12:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16555580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outranks/pseuds/outranks
Summary: They’d started as a one night stand back when Rook was in college, but they were so good together.





	we had a lot of fun

**Author's Note:**

> hypothetically, for future reference, daddy kink with daddy!John? y/n/affront to God?
> 
> (thank you to my wonderful new beta [CrownBeed](http://crownbeed.tumblr.com/)!)

Of all the things that Rook is expecting to find in Hope County, John Duncan was never even in consideration. Except he goes by John _Seed_ now. Youngest brother of Joseph Seed, herald of a doomsday cult, and a violent dangerous asshole. Also, Rook’s ex and the guy who left his heart a shattered broken thing that, years later, still doesn’t feel whole again. 

They’d started as a one night stand back when Rook was in college, but they were good together. And one night became many more nights, a few days, a long weekend, and nearly a full year later that had, at the time, felt like it would last forever. Then, just when Rook was starting to think in bigger words, _important_ future-defining words, John had left. Said there was something he had to do, said that he would call, said that he would _come back_. And Rook had sat there in his stupid rich guy apartment, in his stupid too large bed, and believed every single one of his lies.

To say that Rook is upset to see John again would be one hell of an understatement. _First_ he’s upset. Then he quickly slides into anger, and from there he crashes right into something that feels a lot like setting an entire county on fire just to make sure there is nowhere for John to escape his wrath. 

Which is maybe not the healthiest means of dealing with anything, but there was a long stretch of time where he thought John might be dead, so he’s willing to roll with it. 

“Rook…” John whispers into the suddenly too quiet church, looking absolutely _panicked._

It’s just enough to spur Rook back into action, slapping the cuffs around John’s brothers wrists with just a little more force than absolutely necessary. Not that Joseph seems to mind all that much; a slow smile of clear interest spreading across his face. 

“So you’re Rook,” he says. 

“Nope.” Rook tugs on Joseph’s wrists and starts leading him out of the church, past the marshal and Whitehorse who look a little lost as to what’s going on, but not altogether bothered by it. 

Which is fair, if Rook didn’t have the better part of a decade fueling his anger he’d probably still be standing there, gaping at John. Fortunately, the gravity of the situation doesn’t really hit him until roughly the same time the helicopter hits the ground. What an amazing introduction to John’s family. If only they weren’t in a fucking _cult_.

At least Joseph is nice about it when he checks him for injuries first, before fucking off to start the reaping. On the one hand, Rook knows he should be grateful to have dodged the Seed family bullshit by John leaving when he did, but on the other hand… he might not look so bad with a beard. Rook’s never been very religious, even with John, but he could have _tried_.

There’s also a small part of him that wants to think he could have kept John out of all this. Away from this deeper madness. But he was always pulling Rook into his orbit, no matter what the consequences were. 

*

The fog has barely had time to clear and Rook has only just stepped foot off of Dutch’s island, having just seen John’s new propaganda video, when John himself decides to call. Like it hasn’t been too many years since they’ve seen each other and he still has any sort of right to Rook’s attention. Like Rook wants to hear a damn word he has to say.

“Rook?” John asks, hesitant and soft, even through the poor quality of the radio.

Rook’s jaw clenches, his hand closing around the radio. Squeezing until the plastic creaks, threatening to snap. Now that he’s presented with the opportunity to tell John exactly how he can go fuck himself, he's no longer sure what he should do. “I’m afraid you have the wrong guy,” he says, biting at each word. 

The radio clicks on, holding in a stretch of static. “Rook, please,” John says. 

“Never heard of him.”

There’s a sigh and a sound of a door being closed. “Rook, I know you,” John murmurs, voice quieter than it had been. “I know your face. I know your voice. I _know you._ ”

“Nah,” Rook says. “Pretty sure you have me mistaken for someone who isn’t going to set everything in the valley _on fire._ ” It had been only a fleeting thought before, but now he’s leaning in to it.

Something cracks on the other end of the radio, loud and broken, and Rook hopes it was expensive. He hopes John loses sleep over it the same way he lost sleep over John. Years and years of nightmares where he was just out of reach. Not knowing what happened to John was the hardest part of any of it.

“Fuck, Rook—“

“ _No._ ”

“For fuck sake, will you please—“ John inhales slowly, but where Rook expects fractured control and breathless fury all he gets is a hint of that electrifying current of violence under a layer of calm restraint. A reminder of how long they’ve been apart and how much has changed. “I just want to talk.”

“You seem like a popular guy, John, I’m sure you’ll find _someone_ who wants to talk to you,” Rook says, flipping the radio off. As much as he’d love for John to get down on his knees, in the dirt, and beg for his forgiveness, he also doesn’t want to hear anymore of John’s lies. Every single word out of his mouth, every promise, _everything_ was a lie. 

Because if any of it had been true he never would have left. 

And if John had just ended things, like a normal fucking person, then Rook could have gotten over him. But instead he disappeared off the fucking map, leaving Rook with an apartment he couldn’t afford and a lingering ache in his heart. 

“You’re such an asshole,” he says, quickly flipping the radio on and then off after he speaks. 

*

Turns out Rook needs to keep his radio on because it’s the only way the Resistance has to communicate. All these preppers and their endless amount of caches that served them no good against the cult, and not a single satellite phone in sight. It’s the kind of thing he’d find hard to believe if everyone didn’t seem so beaten down by the cult already. 

Rook has no idea how they’re supposed to win like this. 

And barely twenty minutes after he’s turned his radio back on John is in his ear again, demanding his attention.

“I understand why you’re angry,” John says. 

“Well gosh, John, it’s not a fucking mystery.” Rook should really just stop responding. There’s nothing to be gained from talking about his feelings, and even less from hearing John talk at all. 

John won’t give Rook the fight he wants, but he doesn’t believe for a second that it’s because John is _different_. He’s seen the videos, seen the scars, seen the displays of all of John’s wrath all over the valley in the short amount of time he’s been in Hope County. The best part about _them_ had been Rook’s acceptance of all those darker pieces of John that he could never quite hide away. 

Rook always saw John for who he was, even in the beginning when he thought he was someone to fix. Before he realised he loved John _for_ his sharp jagged edges and not in spite of them.

“You have to let me explain,” John says.

“I don’t have to let you do a damn thing.”

There’s a familiar creak of plastic. The sound of a cheap radio straining under the pressure of anger without an outlet. “ _Rook_ ,” John snaps, a welcome return to form. “Stop fighting me and _listen_.”

“No,” Rook says, unable to help the pleased note the creeps into his voice. “Make me.” 

*

Rook falls asleep in the nicest ransacked house he can find and wakes up to a Peggie spray painting _Sinner_ in red across the front door. He wonders, briefly, if it’s a commentary on him or the previous occupants, but mostly it gives him an idea. And by then he can’t ask the Peggie anything because the guy is either dead or unconscious, and Rook doesn’t care to find out which. 

He takes the spray paint and the Peggie’s car and drives until he finds what he’s looking for. That billboard with John’s face right there in black and white. There’s a rusted ladder up to the platform that groans ominously as he climbs, but holds his weight all the way to the top. Then he has to use some willpower, a grappling hook, and a misplaced sense of immortality to get further up so that he’s even with John’s eyes.

Rook’s never been all that motivated by spite before now, but drawing a big, ugly dick over John’s face really does help him feel a little better.

Not a lot, but enough to get through another day.

“You’ve really matured,” John says, voice flat. Nearly the exact moment Rook is standing on the platform again. Like he’s watching.

Rook looks around, scanning the flat planes of the valley, but there isn’t a single other person that he can see. “Thanks,” he says, wishing he had a camera to preserve the memory. “Hey, if you can see me can you take a picture? I’d like something to remember this moment by.”

There’s a sound like scraping metal and splintered glass layered on top of frustration and _wrath_. A sign of John’s mask of empathy slippin away. “Can you just _behave_ ,” he spits between cracking plastic. “Do you think I won’t grow tired of this game, Rook? I know you and I know where you belong, and if you would only let me _apologise_ —“

Whatever else John has to say gets lost in the scattered pieces of Rook’s broken radio when he throws it into the street. He doesn’t want an apology, especially not like _this_. Not when he can’t see John to strangle the honesty out of him when he starts lying again. Not when Rook is beginning to feel comfortable in his anger because it’s a lot better than the alternatives. 

He spent years with heartache and longing, only to find out John was fucking _thriving_ out here in nowhere, Montana with his family. Which is a hard thought to swallow, because when they were together Rook had thought _he_ was John’s family. John was certainly his. 

But Rook never knew it was a competition, especially one that he couldn’t win. Where John wouldn’t choose to keep him.

*

Rook shouldn’t be surprised when John finds him, still on the platform under the billboard. It probably would have been a good idea to leave, but… maybe part of him had hoped that John would show up. That they could finally have this meeting face to face so Rook can finally put all of this behind him and focus on being whatever it is the Resistance wants him to be. A soldier, maybe, a saviour. He doesn’t want to be either, but he’s not sure he gets a choice.

“The ladder’s old,” he calls when he hears it rattle under John’s weight. “You sure you want to risk coming up here?”

There a pause and a loud sigh before John reaches the top and hauls himself up onto the platform beside him. “We’re going to talk,” he says, face pulled in an expression that Rook can’t figure out. “I need you to understand why I left—“

“You had a cult to build, I understand that just fine.”

“That wasn’t— I didn’t _deserve you,_ ” John says. “Do you have any idea how many times I— fuck, I was an addict, Rook, and it was only a matter of time before I hurt you—”

“Newsflash, asshole, you did hurt me.” If this was all some bullshit to keep him safe, then Rook is going to scream. “And I knew about the drugs, and the— I knew all about your addictions. When you would come home in the middle of the day smelling like a bar and desperate to fuck me. But I also knew you were trying to be _better_ , that you were trying—”

“It wasn’t _enough,_ ” John says, quieter than he had been and Rook can see when he tries to regain his control. “I wanted to be better, yes, but I didn’t know how. And when Joseph… helped me, it had been too long and— you deserved someone else.”

Rook is so angry and hurt that he can hardly see straight. “But I wanted _you._ ”

“Rook…”

“ _No._ It wasn’t your call to make, John. I knew exactly what kind of man you were. I knew when you were holding back, when you were pretending to be someone _softer_. The only thing I didn’t know was when you were lying about coming back because I foolishly thought that you loved me.”

“I _did._ ”

Rook has to take a few deep breaths to steady himself. “Then why didn’t you at least _call?_ ”

“And say what?” John asks. “What could I have said to make up for leaving?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” Rook says. “Maybe, ‘hey Rook, sorry for making you worry about me, but I’m okay.’ Or, ‘guess what, Rook, I found my brothers and now I’m trying to get sober and it might take a while.’ Or how about, ‘here’s where I am, Rook, so you can find me.’”

The silence stretches out while he waits for some kind of response that doesn’t seem to be coming. 

“Alright,” John says with a determined nod of his head, reaching into his jeans pocket. “Wait here,” he adds, pushing something into Rook’s hands.

“Is this— you have a phone? Does it work?”

John is already climbing back down the ladder. “Just, hold on,” he says. When he reaches the ground he jogs over to his car, and disappears into the back seat, only to emerge again holding what looks a lot like another phone.

“You have _two phones?_ ” Rook yells, annoyed that he’s had to use a cheap plastic radio that Dutch apparently has a collection of. 

John’s just waves at him as the phone Rook is holding starts to ring. Fuck, this is going to lead to him forgiving John, he just knows it. “I didn’t mean you had to call _now_ ,” he says when he answers. 

“Rook,” John starts softly, “I’m sorry for making you worry about me, it shouldn’t have taken me this long to call you. I was afraid of what you might say when I did. I… I’m with my brothers in Montana and we’re doing important work here that I want you to be part of. And I’m sober now, too. I don’t know that I’ll deserve you, but I want to try. I—“

“Fuck.” Rook ends the call and climbs down the ladder that suddenly feels a lot longer than it did on the way up when he wasn’t in any hurry. “I should have gotten over you a long time ago,” he says, tugging John closer by his stupid cult belt. “If you ever leave me again I will hunt you down and burn everything around us to ash. If you even think—“

“I won’t,” John says, the concerned pinch of his brows smoothing out as he smiles. “I _missed you,_ ” he breathes, drawing Rook into a kiss that’s all teeth and vicious ownership. “I won’t let you go either, Rook. I’m going to keep you and… there are things I _want_ if you— if you’ll let me—”

Rook has a pretty good idea of what John’s like now that he’s no longer holding back. “ _Anything._ ”


End file.
